Rage
by Nixing a Rose
Summary: Everyone's a jerk; Wendy gives them their due payment. And she still has more crap to deal with.
1. May 28th

Wendy sat, glaring at nothing in particular while nursing a split lip. A rogue - but not necessarily unprovoked - fight had broken out between the blackette and a certain fat arsehole. While he was sent to the nurse's office, the disparaging glares she was receiving from her peers made her wish she was trailing (preferably unconscious) right on after him.

Many girls had stopped to whisper and gossip about _Wendy Testaburger_, self-righteousness incarnate, flat on her ass. The majority of the boys couldn't give two shits.

Wendy was seething.

These bitches had the _nerve_ to look down on her after she had just defended their gender from probably the most egotistical dick ever constructed (she couldn't imagine him being born as something _remotely_ human).

And here she was, knocking that prick down only to have twenty-five more rise. And though the figurative image this metaphor incurred was rather funny, she was, quite frankly, too pissed to think of _anything_ as remotely humorous.

A sickening smile began to curl across her features and several of the girls visibly blanched. _I wonder how many of their grades I can sabotage before-_

"Get up." Wendy flinched and lifted her head to glare straight into the eyes of whomever so dared to- "You don't look as hot down on the floor like that. Unless you either lay down or get on your knees."

"You per-" she began, only to get cut off by a quiet, but threatening, tone.

"I'm saving your ass from getting expelled, judging by the waves of malice that are radiating off of you.

"Then again, I am considerably stronger than Cartman and can more than hold my own against you in a fight. And I'm not afraid to pound you into the ground because you're a girl. Now let's go get you cleaned up."

Wendy nodded, flushed, then rose to her feet. Dusting off her pants, she followed - more than slightly bewildered - after a certain Kenny McKormick.

But this was _the_ Kenny McKormick.

She could only hope she'd keep most of her clothes.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:<strong>_ What?


	2. October 9th

Someone's knuckles rapped against the wood.

"Rapped" would be an understatement, as what he did was more along the line of "beating the crud out of a defenseless door because the person on the other side has pissed you off".

"Come in," said a gentle voice.

"Who was it this time?" he shouted, his portly face flushed a motley red that spread down his fleshy neck. His white, collared shirt hung ill fittingly over his profuse belly and was damp in several places; despite being in the coolest room in Park High, he was sweating like a stuck pig. His drab-coloured pants were pulled up to his chest, as if to accentuate his short stature. His beady eyes narrowed and his upturned nose scrunched as he realized who it was.

This man was Alvin Puhgface, school counselor at Park High School and Wendy's ticket to a juvenile detention center.

"Who did she beat up this time, Ms Lhooselehgs?"

"Eric Cartman…" the principal muttered under her breath, avoiding Wendy's betrayed gaze. "He's…He's in the hospital for a few more days."

Puhgface inhaled a sharp breath, eyes narrowing as he refocused his attentions on Wendy. "Do you realize how much you're costing us, brat? Just what is wrong with you?"

"I- I don't know…" she said, voice wavering.

"It's not that difficult! Do you have some sort of wiring wrong with your brain? Were you just born so stupid that you can't even understand basic moral values? Huh? Huh?" His face was getting darker and darker and his volume getting louder and louder. "Huh? Huh? Huhhuhhuhhuhhuhhuh?"

"_I don't know_!" Wendy roared, shooting out of her chair and toppling over Mr Puhgface with the fearsome force. "I don't know why! You tell me! _Tell me_!"

Her fingers found themselves around his neck, squeezing and slamming his head into the ragged carpet. "_Tell me tell me TELL ME_!"

"Wendy stop, oh God no, please stop!" Wendy couldn't hear her cries over the blood pounding through her head. Mr Puhgface's complexion was turning a bruise colour as Wendy continued to squeeze and slam, squeeze and slam. _Anger rage rage rage rage_.

There were arms restraining her and she thrashed against them. Someone had attacked her, tried to threaten her existence and made her anger and stop, stop she couldn't see him she couldn't touch him couldn't hurt him stop what were they doing stop.

She took a breath.

_**:Error**_

"We did some testing, and you were found positive for the warrior gene." Wendy's world was broken, falling into little shards of despair. Why her? What had she ever done to deserve this? "This doesn't mean that there isn't anything we can do. However, you're nearing thirty suspensions so it's probably not a good idea to keep up this pattern. I suggest finding something to pour your anger into. Some find it in painting; some find it in sports…"

_**:Error**_

She sat on the steps leading to the building, holding her face in her hands in an attempt to dam her tears. She was a freak, this thing that couldn't even control her own emotions. She wanted to wail, to take something and rip it to its bare bones.

_Yes, yes… Do it: break, hurt, destroy…_

A serpentine voice she never knew she had hissed in the back of her mind. It would be so easy, to just go on a rampage and hope someone would see her pain and take her out of her misery. She didn't want this, to spend her life knowing that there was one more thing that could set her off.

"Don't do it."

Her heart jolted.

"D-do what?"

"We both know what you want to do. Don't do it." Wendy raised her face, meeting Kenny's heartfelt blue eyes that seemed to blend in with the sky. "Don't, please."

"I- I'm not…"

"Good," he whispered, bending down close to her and cupping the hand by her side. "Come to my house and spend the night; you don't have to face your parents with the news just yet."

She nodded and followed behind him, the events of the day draining any suspicion from her mind.

* * *

><p><em>AN:<em> This is now a Kenny/Wendy drabble!fic.

o:

Therefore, expect nonsense and fluff and continuity errors.

o:


	3. October 15th

The two were at Kenny's house after the kind-hearted psychiatrist had given his verdict: there was nothing more he could do. Wendy had now been suspended a record fifty times in all of her eleven years of school.

Kenny set down a steaming mug of Swiss Miss and set out a plate of strawberry pop-tarts. He had brought home a box set of Law and Order: SVU for them to watch tonight, as nothing was better at putting someone to sleep.

"You don't have to do this," Wendy mumbled, twisting and turning her hands into each other like Tweek might if he was strung out on some serious shit.

Kenny couldn't take his eyes away.

"Seriously, I've all this 'warrior gene' stuff and man I don't wanna hurt you-" He couldn't stop watching her hands and then her face and then her lips. "It doesn't even make sense I just hate Cartman and I hate Bebe and I hate Allison and I hate…" Her lips were like petals or some shit, because they were just a perfect shade of pink. Why did they have to spew such nonsense? And he was so close to her… So close… "I swear there isn't a lapse in my- _mmph_!"

He had only wanted to make those beautiful lips still, and he had…in a way.

Perhaps not the most conventional means, but means all the same.

She didn't miss a beat, pouring her anger and frustration into the kiss. Nail dug into his bare arms, dragging him closer into her. She pushed and she bit. Tongues danced, minds raced, and hands fought underneath clothing.

Finally, they separated, heady breaths mixing like table salt into water: a solution.

Not the most innocent solution, but a solution all the same.

A quick answer to a life-long question.

And that was good enough for them.


	4. November 20th

Kenny takes Wendy to the nurse for the second time that week, and leers like a perv as the old bat checks her ribs.

Eventually, Ms Ohldlahdy takes a hint and ushers Kenny out. Leaning in, she asks a question that has been on the tip of her tongue for the longest time.

"Is he your boyfriend yet?"

Wendy is stunned, unable to come back with a witty remark. _Like hell he is_. _Just because he makes me feel like a freaking romance novel whenever I even hear his name?_

_Just because he doesn't poke and prod and ask awkward questions about the crap I'm going through?_

_Just because we sneak quick kisses behind everyone's back?_

_He's not my boyfriend._

"Yeah, our one month anniversary was three days ago."

Ms Ohldlahdy beams and pats her hand. "He is a rather strapping young man. If I was younger…" Here she giggled and blushed, covering her wrinkled, dusty-rose lips with an aged hand. Her cheeks turned light blush. "Well, let's just say he'd never see the light of day."

Wendy felt like puking.

_**:Error**_

His head was tilted back as they strolled down the town, off to drop Wendy at another of her therapeutic appointments. Kenny had showed up at her front step yet again, cigarette in mouth and hobo-gloved hand outstretched.

She had accepted its warmth, and off they went.

"So, uh…" Arriving at the front of the building, Kenny seemed to be at a lost for words to say, when they had been coming so easily only second before.

Wendy smiled and stretched onto her tiptoes, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

As she bounded up the steps, black hair whipping behind her in a flurry of deadly midnight leaves, Kenny felt his heart seize.

He was in love with an inferno.

He was in love with rage.

And that rage could only be a crackling blaze of Wendy.

* * *

><p>AN: OHJEEBUSYOUGUISE. Thank you, everyone~ ;O;<p>

My break from FF has brought me lots of clarity and inner peace. So, yeah, regular updates now. c:

Shout outs to Tinsly, Banana and Tuck. You know why.

Lizzie, sorry I haven't respond to your e-mail. Going to do that now.

Most bullshit in my life has been flushed down the drain of good friends. If you read any of my other (crappy) fics, expect to see some Kenny/Clyde in the near future. If you've ever even clicked to the link to my LJ on my profile, expect to see some hardcore smut up there in the near future. Like, tomorrow, maybe? o;

**OHYEAH.**

This story will never go above a K+ rating. Sorry, bro.


	5. Turkey Day Offshoot!

"So, I hear you're dating my daughter."

The stuffing, which had been so delightful and moist, now felt like an expansive desert spilling down his throat. Kenny blinked and took a drink from his water glass, eyes switching to Wendy. She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Y-yes, sir. I'm sorry I didn't ask...for your permission...?" he asked, voice faltering. The table fell silent. Wendy snorted, covering her nose with her hand. Kenny cocked his head to the side, before clearing his throat and returning to his meal. "L-lovely breasts, Mrs Testaburger."

Wendy snorted again, giggling like a mad school girl.

"Oh," the aging woman said softly, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "Thank you, Kenny." He bobbed his head, eyes flicking between Erin and her husband.

Dave Testaburger had been sitting stoically since Kenny admittance to the accusation, though he thawed slightly and raised a brow. "How are you treating my daughter?"

Kenny didn't even pause for deliberation. "Better than you are."

The temperature shot down to zero degrees.

"_Excuse_ me?" he asked, voice frosty. His eyes narrowed.

"I said 'Better than you are.' And it's the truth. You do jack-shit for your daughter." Kenny slammed his silverware down, the clattering on the porcelain causing the frail Erin to startle. "Whoop-dee-fucking-doo: you put a roof over her head. But do you let her eat your food? No. Do you ask her how her day was, ask how school's going? No. Did you fucking _comfort her_ when she was diagnosed? No! Not at all! Thanks for birthing her, but that's all the fuck you've done. She deserves a hell of a lot better than what you've given her."

Kenny huffed as if he were an enraged bull, storming out of the house with the might of his fury. The bang of the door silenced everyone once more.

Wendy stood, walking around the table to embrace her father.

Dave chuckled. "I like him."

"So do I," Wendy murmured, a grin spreading across her face. "Thanks, papa. Thanks, mama."

The edges of Erin's eyes crinkled in a smile. "Any time. Enjoy your life, dear. And have a happy Thanksgiving."

Wendy nodded, grabbing her coat of the rack.

The old couple heard a car start and pull out of the driveway. They turned to each other, Dave holding his wife's delicate hand in his own.

"They remind me of us," Erin voiced softly.

"Yeah," Dave answered. "They do."

* * *

><p>AN: Happy Turkey Day! Ignore all the OOC in this. :P<p> 


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